


Coffee and Mistakes

by Joker25 (SimonsSavior)



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Arthur is a virgin maybe?, Arthur/female reader, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Fucking, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, I'm just a hot mess for Arthur Fleck, Kinda sorta follows the events of the movie, No idea where I'm going with this, Oral Sex, Protective Arthur, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-09 03:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimonsSavior/pseuds/Joker25
Summary: You run into Arthur Fleck at a diner in downtown Gotham. He buys you coffee, and the more you get to know him, the more you get to like him...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the Joker movie. You've been warned.  
I needed some cute Arthur and also some smut in my life so, if you're feeling the same, read on...

“Hi… My name’s Arthur.” The voice beside you is hesitant. You look up from the dregs of your cold coffee to find a man standing next to your table.

“Hi. Um, can I help you?” You frown, eyes darting across the near empty diner before settling back on him.

“It’s just – I saw you sitting alone and wondered if maybe you’d like some company.” The corner of his mouth curls into a smile. “I’m alone too so, I just thought…” He takes a deep breath. “No I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.” He lowers his head and turns away.

For a moment you watch him walking, but as he reaches the door you call out, “Wait.” You don’t know why you do it; maybe because you need someone to talk to; maybe because you’re impressed he had the courage to ask in the first place; or maybe because he didn’t push his luck… Whatever the reason, you halt him in his stride. “You could, sit for a while… I _could_ use some company. God knows I could use another coffee.”

The smile on his face when you invite him to join you compels you to smile, too. He places a hand on the counter as he approaches your table, “Coffee, please. Two.” and then sits down opposite you. Holding your hand out you introduce yourself. He takes your hand, shaking it firmly. “It’s good to meet you.” He nods.

“So, you live in Gotham?”

Arthur leans back and runs a hand through his hair. “I do. Right here in the city… You?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” You chuckle.

“_Ha ha haa!_” His sudden outburst startles you. “I- Sorry.” He looks down as the waitress brings the coffees.

You smile again, “No, it, it is kind of funny, I guess. Who wants to live in a dump like this?” You shrug, thanking the young girl and wrapping your hands around the warm coffee cup.

“It is a dump…” Arthur mutters, tipping sugar into his coffee and stirring it gently. He takes a sip then places it back down to pull a cigarette from the pocket of his tan-coloured jacket. “You don’t mind, do you?”

You shake your head. “It’s fine.” He lights it and inhales before offering it to you. “No, thanks.”

“What do you do? For work, I mean.” He asks before taking another sip of coffee.

“I, don’t… Anymore. I worked at a liquor store in the Narrows. I quit two days ago. You know, it’s not safe. Things are getting worse in Gotham.”

“You noticed that, huh?”

“I’ll find something. Screw it, maybe I’ll be a stripper.” You joke.

Arthur smirks. The smirk becomes a grin and the grin rapidly becomes riotous laughter. “_Ha ha ha haa!_” It takes all your willpower not to spit out your coffee as you laugh, too. You notice Arthur covering his mouth attempting to stifle the laughter, and it takes a minute before he stops entirely.

“I didn’t think it was _that_ funny.” You chuckle.

Arthur’s smile fades. “I have a condition.” He admits, taking a drag of the cigarette. He turns his face away as though ashamed, and gazes through the window at the streetlights outside. “It means I, I laugh, sometimes inappropriately. Uncontrollably. I kinda hate it.” He rubs his forehead.

“It’s okay, Arthur. It’s good to laugh. The world could use more laughter.” You place your hand over his and it draws his eyes back to yours. Without doubt there’s something about this man that has your attention.

“How about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a comedian. And – I also work as a clown, you know, I go to the hospital, sometimes. Kids love me. They think I’m funny.”

“A comedian? I love that. Can you tell me a joke?” You gaze wide eyed at Arthur.

“I mean, I’m trying… I’m working on some stuff. I have this notebook. I don’t-”

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. You don’t have to tell me a joke.”

He stares at the coffee mug in front of him and his lip curls upwards. “What do you call a sad coffee?” You stare at him blankly. “Depresso. _Ha!_”

You giggle not just at the bad joke but at his own laughter, again. “That’s good.” You affirm, and he smiles appreciatively.

You sit quietly for a few minutes, both sipping your coffee. Arthur is watching you as he takes a last draw of his cigarette and then stubs it out in the glass ashtray in the centre of the small table. You’re thankful when he finally breaks the silence.

“You’re very pretty.” He admits. You feel yourself blushing at his words and when you look him in the eyes his expression is almost apologetic. “I didn’t mean that in a creepy way. It’s just, I think you are, very pretty.”

“Thank you.” It’s a sincere thanks. You like this man. He’s quirky, but you definitely like him. Drinking down the last of your coffee you decide to take a chance. “You uh, live close by?”

“Only a few blocks away.” He confirms.

“Do you have coffee at your place?” This is either a great idea, or a terrible one, you conclude.

“I do. Wait, no. I mean, yes, _ha ha ha-_” He grips his chest as he chokes out a laugh, then clears his throat. “But my mother is home, sleeping.” Your heart sinks a little. “I take care of my mother, see.” A man who looks after his mother isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“Right…” You stand up from the table and Arthur stands too, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

“No, it’s fine. I have coffee.” He insists.

You pause for a moment, unsure whether going to the home of a strange man you just met is a good idea – especially in Gotham. But he seems genuine. You like him. And you could do with having a little fun.

“Let’s go, then.” You take his hand and he raises an eyebrow, before digging in his pocket for some crumpled dollar bills and lose coins. He dumps the money on the table as payment for the coffees and then walks you out of the diner and into the cold night.

Arthur’s hand is warm in yours, and he pulls you gently closer to him like he’s trying to keep you safe from the potential dangers of Gotham’s streets. It’s sweet that this stranger should care, you think, as you walk hand-in-hand to his apartment complex.

“You sure your mom won’t mind?” You question, walking up the steps of the neglected building.

“We’ll try not to make too much noise.” He suggests.

“I can’t make promises.” You chuckle, and he smirks, a glint of excitement in his eyes. You notice he makes a point of checking the mailbox before pressing the button for the elevator. It’s empty. “Expecting something good? I stopped checking mine, it’s just endless bills.” You sigh.

Arthur shakes his head. “My mom, she’s expecting a letter from Thomas Wayne. I keep telling her, he won’t write.”

You’re surprised anyone living in a hole like this would expect _anything_ from the Wayne’s. “No. That asshole doesn’t care about people like us.” You roll your eyes. He doesn’t reply.

The elevator to Arthur’s floor seems to take forever to arrive. He lights another cigarette while you both wait, and you take in the architecture of the decaying building – it’s not unlike the tiny one bed apartment you’re renting yourself.

Eventually arriving at his door, Arthur rummages in his pockets for a key. He turns it in the lock and swings open the door, inviting you inside.


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s not much but it’s… It’s not much.” You close the door behind you and shrug off your coat as he quietly shuts what you assume is the bedroom door. “Kitchen’s this way.” He nods to the left and you wander through the small living room and into the kitchen area, glancing over the television set and sofa. Arthur looks a little nervous as he makes an attempt to tidy a space on the kitchen counter. You notice him brushing aside a number of orange pill bottles before he begins scouring the cupboards, you suppose for coffee.

“Shit.” He mumbles. “We’re out of coffee.”

You giggle. “That’s okay, I don’t really want more coffee.” You admit, leaning back against the counter top. Arthur stares at you. “You, you know I didn’t come here for the coffee, right?”

He nods. “I know, it’s just…” He looks anxious.

You bite your lip. “You have done this before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I mean,” he looks at the floor. “Been a while, that’s all.”

You grab the corner of his jacket and pull him closer. He grins, and takes another drag of his cigarette before disposing of it in the sink. Blowing away the smoke, he steps towards you, cups your face with both hands and pulls your face toward him.

Closing your eyes you feel his lips meet yours. He kisses you softly at first; gently. But as your hands find his hips and you pull him closer, he parts your mouth with his tongue and deepens the kiss. He tastes of cigarettes; a hint of sweetened coffee. He tastes good and you want more.

Breaking away from you he gasps for air and shrugs off his jacket. You’re gasping too, but you waste no time in pulling him back down to taste his lips and tongue once again. He cups his hands under your ass and lifts you onto the counter, knocking a number of items to the floor in the process.

“_Arthur? Is that you?_” A voice from across the hall interrupts you.

“Fuck…” He mumbles against your lips before turning his head away from you. “_It’s okay mom! It’s just me! Go back to sleep!_” He calls out. You bite down on your lip, trying to ignore the interruption and roughly unbuttoning his shirt.

He turns his attention back to you, dragging your own shirt over your head and dropping it to the floor. For a moment, his eyes trail over you, and then this tongue is back in your mouth; devouring you; pressing deeper before moving his lips over your jaw. You roll back your head as he rocks his hips into yours and places rough kisses down your neck.

You run your hands down his chest; he’s thin, thinner than you’d expected – not that it matters. The material of his pants strains below his belt buckle, and you work it loose as he fumbles to unclasp your bra, and as you shrug it from your shoulders, you can sense his hesitation.

“_Arthur,_” You gasp through heavy breaths. “Do you want this?”

He avoids your eyes. “Yes. Fuck, I do.” He nods softly.

You take his hand – realising he’s trembling somewhat – and place it on your chest, leaning forward to kiss him gently. “I like you.” You reassure him. “I can’t explain it, and I’ve known you for…” You sigh – it’s been less than two hours. “This just…”

“Feels right.” He mutters, looking up into your eyes.

And then you’re lost in the taste of one another again; tongues battling for dominance and the whole world falls away and there’s only you and him. He lifts you from the counter and you wrap your legs around his waist. He stumbles toward the sofa, and you fall onto it with him on top of you. His mouth now moves to your chest; he kisses you softly, exploring and savouring every inch of you; his hair trailing over your skin causing you to shiver beneath him. As he reaches your stomach, his fingers work to unfasten your jeans and he glances up to meet your gaze – perhaps as confirmation he’s doing all the right things. He is.

As he moves his body back over yours you wiggle your hips, pushing your jeans and underwear away and kicking off your shoes, discarding them carelessly someplace on the floor. You stare at him, and as you push down his own pants and free his aching erection, Arthur’s breathing hitches a little.

You reach down and he closes his eyes when you wrap your hand around his length, the feel of you repeatedly moving up and down causes him to groan quietly.

“_Fuck me, Arthur._” You whisper.

Arthur’s eye’s snap open and he gazes down at you; your eyes locked together as you guide him to where you need him. His heart is beating visibly in his chest. You’re aching; desperate for the feel of him inside you.

And then it happens. Slowly at first, like he’s frightened he might hurt you. You gasp as he fills you entirely, closing your eyes for just a moment before staring back up at him. He does it again; dragging himself away and then thrusting back into you.

“_Yes…_” You groan as he continues to drive in and out. Your breathing grows heavier and his mouth twitches at the corners. He gains rhythm and you rock your hips in time with his. He leans back down and kisses you again and you drag one hand through his hair as your other trails down his back.

“_Harder._” You beg, pulling your legs up around his hips. He feels so good. More so than you’d expected and you’re already growing close to your release. He fucks you harder; faster, losing himself in you and bringing you closer to the edge.

And then it hits you, more suddenly than you’d expected. You try not to cry out as he sends you over the edge and into ecstasy; the sensation almost blinding and as a heat explodes deep in your belly and your body shudders beneath his. It comes in waves as he fucks you, and as your muscles contract around his he begins to reach his own release.

“_Fuck,_” he growls lowly. “I’m, I’m-” and then he loses all self-control and his body jerks as he reaches his peak; coming inside you with a groan as his thrusts slow to a halt.

You’re both sweating and gasping for air when Arthur collapses onto you. For a while, neither of you speaks.

“I should go.” You finally suggest. Arthur lifts his head and draws his eyes level with yours, a disappointed frown gracing his features.

“You don’t have to.” He smiles warmly.

“This was… I enjoyed this. But I should go.” You don’t want to leave, but you feel this was probably a mistake, and a one-time thing.

Definitely a one-time thing.

Arthur pulls himself up and you climb up from the sofa, replacing your jeans and making your way to the kitchen to retrieve the rest of your clothing. Arthur fastens his pants and stands in the doorway, observing you quietly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I don’t have coffee but… We could just sit for a little while. Watch some TV.”

You swallow hard, knowing you should never have come here in the first place. But you like Arthur. Reluctantly, you decline. “No. I have to go.”

He sighs.

“It’s not you,” you place a hand on his. “I promise.” You smile.

“At least let me give you my phone number.” He insists as you tug on your jacket. He turns to find a piece of paper, ripping it from a scruffy looking notepad sitting on a table in the corner of the room. He scribbles down the digits and hands you the paper. You fold it and place it in your pocket without even looking at it.

“Thanks, Arthur.” You kiss him one last time before stepping out of his apartment.

“Call me.” He says, a glint of hope in his eyes and a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was, something.
> 
> What do ya'll think?!
> 
> I'm debating whether to continue this lil fic or just leave it be. I could probably do so much with it but I legit have no idea if anyone would be interested?!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blown away by all the feedback I've gotten on this, so thank you a million times to everyone who has left kudos and comments! You all (and Arthur whom I love dearly) have inspired me to keep writing... So I certainly will. Here's a short chapter to keep you going... More soon!

“Hello?”

“Hi, Arthur? It’s me.” You’re met with silence on the other end of the phone. “Arthur? Are you there?” You wait. “It’s me, you know, the girl from the diner?”

“I didn’t think you’d call.” He finally answers.

Admittedly, it’s taken far longer for you to pick up the phone than you’d have liked. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s been nine days.”

“You kept count?”

There’s a pause. “... I was starting to think you’d never call... I wouldn’t blame you.” His voice is monotone.

“I wanted to it’s just, complicated.”

“If you like me, why is it complicated? I like you, and that’s pretty straightforward.” You can’t help but smile, hearing him say 'I like you'.

“Things have just been... A little mad. That’s all.”

“Ha ha ha _ha_... Mad... _Ha!_ Heh,” He swallows hard; clears his throat. “That’s life. That’s Gotham.”

“I like hearing you laugh.” You do. People don’t laugh enough these days.

He chuckles softly and you’re sure there’s a grin. You can picture him as you twirl the phone cord around your finger. “How’s the job search?” He questions. “Resorted to stripper yet?”

“Unfortunately for you, no.”

“_Ha ha ha ha ha ha!_”

You giggle. “No, I found a waitressing job. It doesn’t pay much but it’s something. Actually, you might know the place. Pogo's.”

He chokes on his cigarette and there’s muffled coughing and spluttering for a short while, until finally his voice comes back to the phone. “The comedy club? I know it. That’s great I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“Hey maybe I’ll see you there. I have a gig soon.”

“I’d like that.” There’s quiet for a moment. You can hear him breathing on the other end of the line, and the sound of each drag he takes of his cigarette. You’re reminded of his lips and the feel of them on yours. “How’s your week been?” You finally ask.

“It’s been great!” His voice lifts, like you’re the only person to show any interest in how his life is going. Maybe you are. “I mean, well, it hasn’t been great... Some kids jumped me. Beat me. Screwed up my job.”

“Shit. Are you alright?” Your grip on the receiver tightens.

“I will be. It’s just bruises. Nothing broken, I don’t think. I shouldn’t have gone after them, you know? Probably my fault...” Your stomach knots at the thought of him being hurt. People are assholes.

“It’s not your fault.” You try to reassure him, and then, “I want to see you again.” The admission tumbles out rather more abruptly than you’d anticipated.

“I’d like that. A lot.” Arthur replies warmly. “You want me to come over to your place-”

“No.” You cut him off. “Um, no I’ll, come to yours. I know where it is.”

“Okay... If you’re sure. Tomorrow night? I’m working at the hospital tomorrow.”

“Sure.” You suddenly realise just how wide your grin is. “So I guess I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll get some coffee.”

You giggle. “Sounds good... It’s been good talking to you.” You admit.

“It has...” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye Arthur.”

“Bye.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly thank you for ALL the amazing feedback you've all been giving me, there's no way I can stop writing this fic now!  
Hope you enjoy this next part... I know you all love the smut ;)

“_Jesus Christ_. Fuck. What the fuck happened to y-” Arthur greets you at the door with blood stains on his shirt and a smear of white paint around the edges of his beaten face. But your concerns are instantly silenced when he pulls you into the apartment and kisses you with a fierce confidence; like even if you’d wanted to stop him he’d easily overpower you. He wants this; he needs this.

He kicks the door shut behind you and pulls you with him into the living room. Collapsing onto the messy sofa, he drags you onto his lap and continues to kiss you; his hands tangle through your hair and his kiss deepens; a desperate clash of tongues and teeth and hot skin. This time the taste of cigarettes and sweetened coffee are replaced with the copper of blood.

Reluctantly you break away from him, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling off your own. He shrugs it off and you climb up from his lap, kicking off your pants until you’re standing naked and vulnerable before him. Everything about this seems so wrong. And yet you’ve never wanted anything more.

He gazes at you; eyes hungry with need and you don’t know what’s happened between then and now but Arthur is not the same man you fucked last week. He unfastens his belt; unzips his pants and wraps his hand around his erection, pumping it slowly as he stares at you; the grin on his face begging you to join him.

It takes no convincing for you settle back into his lap, lowering yourself gently onto him and feeling the tip of him brush against your most sensitive area. You twist your hips; teasing him; teasing yourself, and he shifts impatiently beneath you as you run your hands over his bare chest and grazed ribs. He flinches beneath your touch.

Arthur opens his mouth like he might speak, but words escape him. All he manages is a restless groan as your hands fall to his throbbing length and you guide him inside of you; and his groan is accompanied by your own soft sigh of desperation.

You rise and fall slowly above him, losing yourself in the sensation of being filled over and over. He grips your hips and your eyes are locked together as you trace a finger over the smears of white around the edges of his face. “Arthur,” you whisper, breathlessly. “Tell me what happened.”

His breathing is shallow as you fuck him and he swallows hard before answering. “On the subway… Three men… I tried not to but – I couldn’t stop – couldn’t stop laughing.” He closes his eyes and rolls his head against the back of the sofa. You lean forward, kissing his jaw. “They hit me… Beat me… You know they think they’re… So much better than everyone… Else... Think they run this City…” He opens his eyes briefly before your lips meet again. But his hands travel the length of your body to grip your face and he pulls you away and stares straight into your eyes with some combination of fear and exhilaration.

“Arthur?” You frown as he continues to move his hips in time with yours.

“I had a bad, bad day. Lost my job…” He pauses momentarily. “And I killed them.” You cease your movements as the words tumble effortlessly from his lips. For a moment you forget to breathe. “They deserved to die and I shot them.” He holds your face in his hands, waiting for a reaction.

Something inside you is screaming to run. Get out. What kind of man kills another man in cold blood and so openly admits it with such little remorse? But part of you understands.

He’s waiting for a response, but the only one you have is to lose yourself in him all over again.

And maybe it’s another mistake. But fuck the consequences.

You’re falling up and down on top of him; nearing the release you crave and gasping for air; entirely absorbed in everything that is Arthur Fleck. He rolls his head back with his arms outstretched across the back of the sofa and closes his eyes as a soft chuckle escapes him. You grip his thighs as you ride him; harder; faster; his laughter growing uncontrollably but this time he makes no attempts to stop himself. And when you can’t hold on any longer and your muscles begin to tense, you come with the sound of laughter ringing in your ears. Your body jerks and you bite your lip. And suddenly laughter is replaced by a breathy groan as Arthur follows suit and comes deep inside you.

“_Fuck..._” Is the only word you manage to mutter as you collapse into his chest. You can feel his heart beating rapidly against yours. You’re struggling to understand what you’re doing. Nothing makes sense anymore.

But you don’t want it to stop.

Eventually, you find the strength to move. Arthur shifts beneath you and lays back against the cushions, encouraging you to lay on top of him. It’s a small space, but you make it work as he drags a thin blanket over you both. He reaches out, fumbling on the coffee table for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“What am I doing here?” You mumble.

“I was wondering the same thing.” Arthur responds, lighting the cigarette and inhaling deeply. He turns his head to blow away the smoke and then kisses you on the forehead. “But I’m happy you are.”

“Did you, really kill those men?” The thought scares you.

“I did. I did because, they were bad men.” His admission is said with such clarity. Gotham is a terrible City, full of terrible people. But Arthur doesn’t seem terrible to you. “Heh, maybe I’m – _ha ha_ – maybe I’m, just crazy.” He shrugs.

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” You lift your head, watching him blow smoke up toward the ceiling. “I think you’ve been dealt a bad hand in life. Like most of us. Look at this place,” you glance around the small apartment. “Look at where we live. There’s no work… The poor get poorer. People like Thomas Wayne, like those men on the subway, think they can treat people like us like shit and we’ll sit and take it.” The more you think about it, the more you feel he is justified in what he’s done.

Arthur doesn’t reply.

You lay your head back down, resting your cheek against his warm chest and listening to his heartbeat. Outside the window, sirens echo through Gotham’s streets, interspersed by rowing couples and the outcry’s of those accosted by muggers. The sounds of the decaying City of crime never cease.

“Hey, are you going to be working tomorrow? I’ve got a slot, at the comedy club.” Arthur sounds hopeful.

“You mentioned it… Yeah I’m working so hopefully I’ll catch the show.”

Arthur smiles. “That’s great. Maybe after, we could get something to eat?”

“I’d like that.” You mutter into his chest, closing your eyes. Arthur wraps his arms tightly around you, leaving you feeling remarkably safe and at ease as he holds you close to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow what was THAT? Okay, I need feedback here, that was incredibly difficult to write…!  
Oh, and to the person who (sarcastically?) commented “Imagine Arthur uncontrollably laughing midway banging”, don’t underestimate how attractive Arthur’s laugh is, mmk? That shit works!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you for all the encouraging comments I've been receiving, it means a lot!

“...Well no one's laughing now.” He stands on the stage with arms outstretched awaiting the audience’s applause. His confidence is admirable, even if the jokes aren’t very good.

You pause your gathering of empty glasses from tables to glance up at Arthur and flash him an encouraging smile, but with the spotlight glaring in his face, you’re not sure he’ll see you anyway.

Nobody laughs.

But Arthur seems unfazed and continues his routine regardless.

When you’re done collecting glasses and manage to find a quiet moment, you sit down at an empty table near the back of the club, and watch him. The way he moves; the way he talks. Something about him captivates you in a way no man has ever held your attention before. You find yourself giggling at his bad jokes; and by the end of the routine your face aches from the grin that’s been plastered across it; not necessarily because you find him funny, but more so because you enjoy watching Arthur being Arthur.

You’re going to have to tell him. It’s more than just an ‘_I like you’_ at this point.

At the end of the night you gather up your coat and bag and clock out, stepping into the cold air of the dim night – avoiding the precariously heaped garbage bags by the backdoor.

Arthur is waiting for you, illuminated under the glow of the orange-tinted streetlight with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette in his mouth. He grins widely when he sees you. “Hey, so how’d you think it went?” he gazes at you with wide, proud eyes.

Linking your arm around his, you place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “You did amazing Arthur. I think you’re… Amazing.”

His grin broadens and he turns to face you, removing his hands from his pockets and throwing the cigarette on the ground. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in close, enveloping you entirely. He kisses you; deeply; slowly.

It could’ve been a minute, or an hour, you wouldn’t know. But eventually the pair of you have to stop for air.

“We should get something to eat.” Arthur suggests, taking your hand in his and leading you away from the stage door of Pogo's. You nod, suggesting the café on the corner of the block; small, and run down like most of the City.

“This garbage strike is ridiculous.” You mutter, kicking at the trash littering the sidewalk.

“Yeah, yup, the City’s cut funding all over.” He pauses, like he’s hesitant to tell you what he wants to tell you. “I uh, saw my social worker today. She said that’s it.” He shrugs as you amble down the street. “People like us are screwed, right? Can’t even get my medication anymore... No one gives a shit about me.” He speaks like he really believes that.

“Hey, _I_ give a shit about you.” Pills or no pills, and for all his faults, you care about him.

Arthur doesn’t reply, but smiles modestly.

You take a seat in a quiet corner of a fluorescently lit café, and briefly skim the uninspiring menu. But it’s hard to focus on ordering food when you’re so busy thinking about... Arthur. He leans back in his seat, glancing at the menu, and then his eyes flicker upward as he notices you looking at him. The way he’s peering over the top of the laminated sheet makes you giggle and you don’t even notice the waitress standing impatiently beside you.

“Can I get you something?” She only sounds half interested as she taps the end of her pencil against her notepad.

Arthur looks momentarily startled.

You clear your throat. “Uh, I guess, just a burger. And a-” you glance at Arthur as you say it. “Coffee. Please.”

Arthur nods. “Make that two.”

As she walks away your eyes drift over a nearby newspaper printed with today’s date. The image on the front depicts the face of a clown with the words KILLER CLOWN ON THE LOOSE printed above it in bold lettering. Your eyes are fixed on it when the waitress comes back with the coffees.

“You heard about that?” She drones. “Some crazy in a mask shootin’ people on the subway, huh? Gotham never ceases to amaze me.” She rolls her eyes as she sets down the steaming mugs.

You swallow anxiously. “Yeah,” You shrug. “Maybe they deserved it…” You glance at Arthur, who squeezes a hand over his mouth and chokes back inappropriate laughter.

The waitress simply huffs. “Sure, whatever.”

Calming his outburst, Arthur changes the subject. “You like the Murray Franklin show?”

“I do. I love Murray.”

“Me too!” He enthuses cheerfully. “Hey, _that’s life_.” He smirks.

You smile briefly. “What happened to your hand?” You reach across the table, taking Arthur’s hand in yours and noticing his knuckles are raw and slightly bruised. You look up with concern in your eyes and the expression on his face tells you he’s not used to anyone being so concerned about his well-being. You begin to wonder if that mother of his pays him much attention at all.

“It’s nothing. I ran by my work place earlier. I mean I don’t work there now, you know... Just needed to pick up a few things and, uh, punch out. _Literally_.” He admits. “Nah, I didn’t hit anybody. Just the clock.” You wouldn’t have blamed him for hitting anybody.

You shake your head silently, lifting his hand to your lips and kissing the bruising gently.

After a moment, Arthur’s eyes begin to wander and his head bobs. You watch him, curiously, before realising he’s turned his attention the music drifting from the radio behind the bar. And then he stands, still holding your hand as a coy smile graces his face. “Come on, dance with me,” he whispers.

And there could be ten, or a hundred, or a thousand pairs of eyes watching you, but you couldn’t care; you see no one but Arthur as he leads you from your seat and places a hand on your waist, pulling you into him.

_I, I will be king. And you, you will be queen._   
_ Though nothing, will drive them away._   
_ We can beat them, just for one day._   
_ We can be heroes, just for one day._

He moves gracefully; turning, twisting, and guiding you with him. And it’s right in this moment, as the lyrics dance through your head and Arthur holds you firmly against him, you realise you’ve fallen for this man. Entirely and unreservedly. You’ve never wanted anything more.

_Though nothing, nothing will keep us together._   
_ We can beat them, forever and ever,_   
_ Oh, we can be heroes, just for one day._

You wrap your arms around his neck; your forehead pressed against his so he’s close enough your vision begins to blur and you can no longer focus. You close your eyes and taste his lips, swaying gently to the song’s rhythm.

_We’re nothing, and nothing well help us._   
_ Maybe we’re lying, then you better not stay,_   
_ But we could be safer, just for one day._

_Just for one day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I wanted to tone it down a little for this chapter. So it's not ALL about the smut, so I hope ya'll found this one sufficiently fluffy <3  
As ever, thank you SO much for reading and all the lovely comments!! I'm so inspired!  
And in case anyone _didn't_ know and wanted to, the song is 'Heroes' by David Bowie.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I present to you; some more delicious smut, and we learn a little more about reader…  
Thanks again for the feedback, ya’ll got me writing so quick!

“Stay still.” You sigh, kneeling in front of Arthur and dabbing at the dry blood which has stained his lips. “I can’t believe he hit you...” He doesn’t reply, perched on the edge of the chair in the corner of his apartment while you tend to his latest injury.

Arthur had explained everything to you at the hospital. About how his mother claimed, as unlikely as it seemed, Thomas Wayne was Arthur’s father; about how he’d been to the house only to find Bruce and was denied the opportunity to speak to Thomas. With his mother now laying in a hospital bed the final blow came when Arthur saw himself on the television screen; mocked by his hero Murray Franklin. You’d squeezed his hand; your fingers entwined with his as you whispered to him not to take notice.

What do they know, anyway?

_“Fuck the rich! Fuck Thomas Wayne! Fuck the whole system!”_ The words of the earlier news broadcast had replayed over and over in your head. Arthur had inadvertently started an entire political movement that he wanted no part in. And standing there, amongst the rioters – though they’d attempted to call it a protest – you really began to convince yourself what Arthur did was justified.

And the people of Gotham wholly supported it, too.

Of course, you weren’t there for the riots... You were there because Arthur had decided this was his best chance to speak with Thomas Wayne and you wanted to be there for him, whatever the outcome.

Unfortunately, the outcome hadn’t been a pleasant one. “This is… Getting to be a habit.” You place your hand on his thigh in some attempt at comfort.

“I need to visit Arkham.” He mumbles.

“You need to take it easy.” You argue, cleaning the last of the blood from his face. His eyes lift and the corner of his lip turns up just slightly. You smile reassuringly.

“I don’t believe him. My mother isn’t crazy. I don’t know how he could say those things to me.”

You reach up, pressing your hand to his cheek, and plant a soft kiss on lips. He welcomes it. Your kiss grows deeper, but as you begin to lose yourself Arthur pulls away, sharply.

“Ow. Nose.” He frowns.

You giggle. “Shit, sorry.”

He brushes his hand through your hair. “It’s okay, it’s just… Let’s take it easy.”

You tilt your head, running your hand along the inside of his thigh as you kneel in front of him. “There’s other places I can kiss…” You suggest, trailing your fingers over the crotch of his pants and further up beneath the hem of his shirt.

Arthur’s eyes widen a little and his breath catches in his throat. “You don’t have to-”

But you interrupt his vague attempt at protesting, “I want to.”

You lift his shirt, brushing your lips against his skin; pressing kisses over his stomach and the fine trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistline. As you massage him through the fabric of his pants, Arthur leans back, breathing slowly and deeply. Eventually, when you feel you’ve teased him enough, you unfasten the pants and grasp his throbbing erection. He exhales a quietly appreciative groan as your hand encompasses him.

Arthur shudders slightly at the sensation of you running your tongue along the underside of his length. He swallows hard; muscles in his thighs contracting when you take the entirety of him into your mouth, tasting every delicious inch of him.

Glancing up, you make eye contact; his eyes are heavy lidded and his mouth open slightly; he rakes his hands through your hair, sweeping it from your face as you swirl you tongue and hollow you cheeks.

The more you work your mouth over him, the more laboured Arthur’s breathing becomes. He closes his eyes and rolls his hips, imitating your pace and gently fucking your mouth.

“I’m… I think I’m…” And before he can stop himself he comes; his muscles are tense and his hips jerk as you swallow around him. His pearl-white release clings to your lips as you trace your tongue over the tip of his arousal, until eventually his movements still.

“No one’s ever, done that for me before.” He admits, looking down and attempting to fasten his zip as you climb to your feet. “That was…” He nods, unable to find a suitable word.

You smile modestly and take a seat beside him, happy you could make him forget everything for just a few moments. But there’s something you need to tell him. “Arthur, I…” You pause, leaning forward on the chair and searching for courage. “I need to tell you something.” Maybe you should’ve saved this for later. Maybe now is not the right time.

Arthur eyes you apprehensively. “What?”

“I made a mistake. I haven’t been honest with you.” His expression grows confused. “There’s a reason I hesitated in the diner that day; why I took so long to call you before. And why I, I didn’t take you back to my place…” He swallows hard and clenches his jaw. “I really, really like you. You know that. And I never meant for this to happen-”

“What is it?” His leg begins to tremor restlessly.

“I’m married.” It takes all the strength you have in you to admit it to him, but he deserves to know the truth.

He shakes his head. “Heh, ha ha, that’s a – _ha ha ha!_ – that’s a _good_ joke.” He chokes out a laugh laced with denial.

“It’s not a joke. I wish it was.” You take a deep breath, waiting for his laughter to slow. “I was young and, believe me when I say the love has long since gone. But if he knew, about me and you? He’d _kill_ you. And probably me.”

Arthur grins. “No.”

“It’s not a matter of-”

“_No!_” He slams a fist against the table, disrupting a stack of empty medication bottles in the process. You watch two of them roll across the desk and hit the floor as he speak again. “I wouldn’t let him hurt you. I _won’t_ let him hurt you.” His expression has changed.

“I didn’t know how to tell you and I- I need out. Arthur I need help.”

* * *

_It didn’t take whole lot of convincing for Arthur to agree to go back to your apartment. Whether you ever really had a plan or not was uncertain; the only real clarity was knowing you wanted to be with Arthur, and you needed your ex-husband to understand that and get out of your life. You never meant for things to go the way they did…_

* * *

You’re shaking when you reach the high-rise building. Arthur has his arm around you; like some attempt at comfort. Maybe you could just talk, and he wouldn’t see red. Maybe, he won’t even be home and the piece of shit has already packed up and left you like he’d threatened to do countless times before.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be waiting right outside. Right here.” Arthur reassures you, pulling you close and holding you as you stand outside the door to the apartment complex. You’re just going to talk to him, you convince yourself; tell him it’s over. And if things go badly –

“Hey, hey what the _fuck?_”

You’re suddenly ripped away from Arthur by the drunken piece of shit you used to call a husband. This isn’t how you’d planned it – not that you’d planned it anyway.

“Whoa, ha ha! Calm down, it’s – heh – it’s not-” Arthur tries to calm the situation and receives a punch to the gut for his efforts.

“Stop it!” You cry. “Leave him alone. It’s over, asshole, we’re over and that’s the only reason I’m here. I came to _tell you_-” But he grasps you firmly by the arm and attempts to drag you through the door. “_Let go of me!_” You scream for Arthur, who is laying doubled over and laughing hysterically on the sidewalk outside.

But in a flurry of fists and rage, Arthur has the man pinned quite suddenly against the wall by his throat. “She told you it’s over.” He warns. You haven’t seen Arthur like this. You didn’t except him to be like this.

“_Who the… Fuck are… You?_” He chokes out, clawing at Arthur’s hands.

“I’m the one telling you, to stay away from her.”

“_Screw you_. She does what I tell her to do.” He threatens.

It all happens so fast; Arthur produces a gun seemingly from nowhere and then there’s gunshots and blood and screaming and – you’re running through the streets of Gotham; running faster than you thought you could. Your legs ache; your chest feels like it might explode; tears cloud your eyes as Arthur drags you by your hand as far away from the apartment building as he can.

When he finally stops, you collapse to your knees on the damp concrete. You’re exhausted; gasping for breath and shaking uncontrollably. He shot him. He _shot_ him.

“You _shot_ him.”

You look up through blurred eyes and stare at Arthur. He’s bent over with his hands on his knees, shaking his head as he struggles to form words. “I – I did it for you.” He gasps. “I did it for _you_.” His tone is innocent and expression honest. “He was _awful_. You don’t deserve that.” His expression grows serious.

“And what the fuck do I deserve, Arthur?” You pant. “_A murderer?_”

“Don’t say that.” He pleads, faltering toward you. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hands as Arthur drops onto his knees beside you. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help.” He attempts to place his hand on your shoulder but you flinch, trying to move away from him. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never do that. I would _never_… Please look at me.” He places his fingers under your chin and lifts your head so his eyes lock with yours. “I love-”

“Don’t. Don’t say it.” You don’t want to hear those words. He takes a deep breath and smiles warmly, and it’s all you can do to collapse into his arms; a sobbing mess of trembling nerves and hot tears. He cradles you; holds you until the tears stop and kisses your head softly.

“Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I’m really going to need some feedback on this one because jeeeez, amiright?  
We’re getting closer to the end already, guys… But I’m debating whether I should just keep writing for as long as is possible (or until ya’ll are bored with it!).  
Throw me some feedback/ideas/thoughts/anything! Huge thanks for reading, as always!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a few days to work out exactly where I was going with this... But here, I hope you all like this chapter!  
I don't like to spoil what's coming up but TW for attempted/implied rape, just in case.

“No. I can’t do this Arthur.” You choke out, pushing him away from you and rising to your feet. He stares up at you; eyes begging for you not to go as you take a step back. But he doesn’t try to stop you.

Your chest aches; not only because you ran faster than you’ve ever run in your life but because somewhere deep inside you, you’re pleading silently for Arthur not to let you walk away.

Everything is so complicated now. When he’d admitted to killing those Wall Street guys on the subway, it had only been words and men you didn’t know. They’d deserved it, you were sure. But watching him gun down your ex-husband – despite the things he’d put you through – it all became real.

Arthur is a killer.

You need to think. You need clarity. You _need_ to get away from him.

You bolt; the rain growing heavier and night darker. Your entire body hurts but adrenaline keeps you moving.

Eventually you come to a halt somewhere in downtown Gotham, bent over and struggling to breathe. You lean back against the cold brick wall of a dimly lit alleyway; another back street piled high with torn trash bags and the stench of rotting waste. You close your eyes, trying your damnedest not to break down completely.

Taking a few deep breaths you open your eyes again, attempting to figure out where you are. Looking up you spot a sign, _Park Row_. You know this place; you’re close to the Monarch Theatre.

A sharp whistle has you snapping your gaze to the left. “What do we got here, boys?” Three men approach you from the other end of the alleyway but before you can move they’re blocking your exit.

“What’s a fine piece of ass like you doin’ in a rat-infested hole like this?” He chuckles. You swallow hard. “You look like shit, baby doll. What happened? Your ol’ man throw you out?” He snickers, pressing closer to you and pinning you between himself and the brick wall.

“Please, I don’t have any money.” You’re shaking. “Just, let me-”

“Oh, hey now, baby doll. We don’t need no money. Pretty lady like you’s got other things to offer.” He raises an eyebrow and throws a look at the other two men. A silent tear escapes you.

“Please-”

“_Shut up_.” He demands, gripping your shoulders and shoving you onto the filthy, sodden concrete.

Your head hits hard and you groan as the man tries to pin you down. You thrash your legs, kicking him violently in the stomach.

“You little _bitch_.” He growls breathlessly, and before you can do any more damage his buddies hold you against the ground. The man draws back his fist and hits you hard in the face, splitting your lip so you instantly taste blood. You scream out as pain radiates through your face.

“Leave her alone!” A familiar voice travels down the alleyway toward you.

_Arthur_. Tears spill down your cheeks as you tilt you head back and catch sight of him standing with his arm outstretched.

When they notice he has a gun, the men let go of you and stand to face him.

“Hey whoa, hold up man. We was just havin’ a little fun, y’know?”

Arthur looks at you; concerned; angry; his jaw is clenched and his hand trembles as he aims. You’re too frightened to move. He doesn’t speak.

“You gonna do somethin’ with that? What, you gonna shoot us?” They taunt.

Arthur looks down, then back at you as a strangled laughter escapes him. He tries to hold it back; choking, gagging as he fights the outburst until he can’t hold it in any longer and he erupts into a fit of delirious laughter, tossing the 38 aside.

“Bad choice.” The man sneers, lunging at Arthur and cracking him across the jaw, sending him sprawling.

“No!” You scream as Arthur hits the ground, still laughing. _Not again_. You can’t let this happen to him _again_.

You dive forward, grasping the weapon in tremoring hands and firing without hesitation. You hit the man in the shoulder and he cries out in agony as the bullet tears through his flesh. You shoot a second time; this time it misses but it’s enough to scare them and they disperse like scurrying vermin.

You collapse beside Arthur and his laughter finally ceases. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“It’s okay.” He promises, sitting up and pulling you into him. “I got you. I’ve always got you.”

Your head is throbbing; spinning. “Arthur they could’ve _killed_ you.” You sob.

“Yeah,” he huffs a gentle laugh and draws his face level with yours. An almost congratulatory grin plays on his lips. “You shot them.” Your eyes are locked together.

“I… I couldn’t let them hurt you.” And as the words leave your mouth you understand. You understand exactly why Arthur did what he did outside of your apartment. He’d do anything for you, and you’d do the same for him.

“I don’t want you to be sad.” He places his hand on your cheek; cold; damp – you’re both drenched from the pouring rain – but it comforts you to feels his skin against yours. “Not sad, or, angry or scared. I just, want to make you smile.”

You close your eyes when he leans in and kisses you and you both taste blood from your swollen lip; it’s nothing new.

Moving away he takes the gun from you and stands, tucking it into his jacket pocket. Then he holds out his hand, pulling you up from the floor. He holds your face in both hands, “I’m gonna take care of you,” and smiles, “I’m taking you home.”

* * *

By the time you reach his apartment you’re both shivering and wet through to the skin. Arthur closes the door behind you, and the rest of the world disappears. It’s just you and him; and nothing else matters.

“You should… I mean we should, probably get out of these wet clothes.” He suggests, standing in front of you. You nod as his hands trail over your arms before unzipping your jacket. He drags it off you and then lifts up your t-shirt. You raise your arms as he pulls it off and drops it to the floor.

Even now – even after everything you’ve been through, he’s momentarily hesitant.

You smile encouragingly as you unclasp your bra and he pulls off his own jacket. Unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugs it away, allowing you to press your hands against his chest. His skin is damp and his heart thuds hard beneath your fingertips. He shivers under your touch – though it could be the cold – and begins to unfasten your jeans.

As you remove your last item of clothing, Arthur nods toward the bathroom. “You should take a hot shower. It’ll help.”

You nod; shuddering as the water clinging to your hair drips over your bare shoulders and down your back.

Leaving Arthur in the hallway, you enter the bathroom and turn the shower taps. Whilst you wait for the water to heat up you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You’re so numb you’d forgotten your lip was split and still bleeding. You’ll take care of it after the shower, you decide, stepping into the scalding stream. You reach out to pull across the shower curtain, but Arthur stops you, grasping your wrist gently.

Silently he steps into the tub with you; the heat cascading down his face and rushing over knotted shoulders.

And you welcome his body against yours as you both stand beneath the running water, engulfed in a swirl of hot steam. Arthur’s hands find yours and your fingers entwine as he presses closer. His hair falls over his face; clinging to wet skin as he leans forward. Your forehead rests against his and you close your eyes, breathing in the heat.

“Arthur…” You whisper, the name barely audible.

But he doesn’t let you tell him how you feel. Before you can speak again he catches your mouth with his. He’s careful; he knows your lip is swollen and your head is aching; and no doubt his jaw aches, not to mention his nose is still tender from his earlier confrontation with Thomas Wayne.

Still, your lips brush his; scarcely touching one another. You’re exhausted – and you know he is too – but all you want is to taste him on your tongue. You _need_ him.

You stay like that – you’ve no idea how long it’s been – until the air is thick with steam and you feel like your legs might give out at any moment. Arthur eventually shuts off the water, helps you out of the tub and pulls a towel around your shoulders. He wraps a second towel around himself then leads you to the bedroom, before rummaging in a drawer for some clean clothing.

“It’s not much but, here. It’s clean and it’s dry.” He hands you a plain white t-shirt. It smells like him.

He pulls on a pair of white underpants and a burgundy button up shirt.

You collapse onto the bed beside him and he wraps an arm over you; within moments, you’re asleep in his arms.

When you wake the next morning it’s to the sound of the phone ringing from the kitchen. It rings twice before the answer machine kicks in.

“Ah this message is for Arthur Fleck…” The woman’s voice drones on and you don’t pay a huge amount of attention until you feel Arthur climb up from the bed and he disappears into the next room.

“Who is this?” He questions, picking up the receiver. You lay still, gazing up at the peeling paint and moulding corners of the ceiling; neglected like the rest of the decaying building. He mumbles softly into the phone as you lay there waiting for him to come back.

When he reappears he has a bemused look on his face. “They want me on the Murray Franklin Show.” He drops back onto the bed beside you and takes a drag of his cigarette. “Can you believe that? Thursday.” But his voice is less enthusiastic than you’d anticipate given the news.

“That’s… That’s amazing Arthur!” You roll onto your side, placing your head on his shoulder and wrapping your leg over his.

“Yeah…” He breathes, blowing smoke toward the ceiling.

Your fingers dance lightly over his chest and stomach, eliciting a sharp breath from him when you dip a little lower.

“I need to visit Arkham.” He asserts, sitting up abruptly and stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray beside the bed.

“Arthur-”

“No, I need to. I need to know if what Thomas Wayne said is true…” You sit up behind him, kissing his shoulder softly.

“Do what you have to do. I have to work today. But, I’ll see you later tonight?” He turns his head, kissing your cheek and placing a hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. And his smile reassures you that everything is going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy oh boy that was, difficult! I tried to lay off the smut a little in this chapter, but get as close as I could without, you know. Hope I achieved that!  
So okay, a few people have been throwing ideas at me, which for the record, I LOVE. Because I want to be able to write what people want to read! So I've done my best to include suggestions but fit them in around the plot I already have in my head. (Shoutout to _Yeet_ & _Arlowah_ who threw me some suggestions, I hope I did it partial justice!)  
Thank you UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNTS for all the kudos and kind comments ya'll have been leaving!  
Love love love love love <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you GUYS. Okay I was not planning to upload this next chapter so soon, but the muse is strong... Also, I may not get to upload another chapter for a while because ugh, real life, y'know? So please be patient until I can get there! For now, have this, it's extra long and deliciously smutty because really we all need more of that in our lives, right?  
And, THANKS AS USUAL for all the amazing comments you've been leaving! <3  
Enjoy!

Arthur comes home late – later than you’d expected. You think you hear him laughing to himself deep into the night, but when you wake again the next morning he’s already gone, again. After wondering where he’s been all day, the door to his apartment finally swings open.

“Arthur?” He appears in the doorway. “Is everything okay?” You’re relieved to see him.

“I just, I’ve been at the hospital, you know?” He shrugs, kicking off his shoes. “I’m sorry I was gonna call…” He pauses and stares at the floor. “Heh, she’s, uh… Ha ha, my mom, died.”

“Jesus, Arthur.” You approach him, placing your hand on his arm.

“No, no it’s okay.” He smiles. “I’m okay. I feel good, actually.” You stare at him, doubtfully.

“Do you, want to talk?”

“No,” He places a fist against the wall and leans against it. “I’m fine. Really.” He insists in an exceptionally calm tone. He gazes at you as you accept that people grieve in unusual ways and if this is his way of dealing with the situation, then so be it. You’ll be here for him when he needs you.

But regardless of _his_ need for comfort, you fall into his arms and bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms tightly around you and holds you, kissing the top of your head; his lips lingering as he inhales deeply.

“How did it go at Arkham?” You mutter against him, not wanting to let go.

He exhales a long, drawn out sigh. “Not… Not great.”

“Did you get to see the papers you needed?”

Your bodies sway gently as he holds you. “Mm hmm. Guess she really was fucking crazy…” He mumbles.

Your heart drops; you know that means Thomas Wayne was right. And right or wrong, Arthur will still hold it against him. It’s hard to hear what he has to tell you. “I’m sorry Arthur, for what you’re going through. For, what you’ve been though.”

“It’s funny…” He muses, arms still wrapped around you. “You’re the only one who’s ever noticed me. The only one who’s ever cared…” You’re not sure how that admission constitutes as funny, but you’ve come to realise Arthur has a unique take on what’s funny and what isn’t.

“Hey, you wanna help me rehearse for my big moment?” He changes the subject quite abruptly, pulling away from you and taking your hands, guiding you into the living room and sweeping the floor like it’s some magnificent ballroom. You giggle as he dances you all around the small space, carefully avoiding the coffee table and television set.

“Arthur,” you smile warmly as you waltz to the imaginary music, “are you sure you’re up for the Murray show? I mean, after everything that’s happened-”

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” he assures you, planting a firm kiss on your lips. “Except for you, of course.” You’ll take that answer, kissing him back enthusiastically – the split in your lip thankfully no longer stings.

Parting from your lips he twirls you one last time before grasping your waist and pressing you fiercely against the wall. You gasp involuntarily as he closes the gap between your bodies; his actions have taken you entirely by surprise; the need for a rehearsal apparently replaced by his appetite for _you_.

Your eyes flutter closed and you arch your back as he kisses your jawline; your neck; your shoulder. Parting your thighs with his knee he presses harder into you, creating a satisfying friction.

He leans back, taking off his shirt and discarding it carelessly someplace on the floor. You do the same, before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and tasting his lips again. His tongue rolls over yours; hot and desperate, like he could devour you in just moments.

You’re breathing each other’s air; scarcely drawing enough oxygen to stay conscious. You’re breathless, almost intoxicated when he growls “_I want you. All of you_.”

“_I’m yours, Arthur_.” You rasp, unable to stop yourself from grinding against his thigh.

With his mouth drawn back to yours he tears you away from the wall and turns the corner, pulling you with him into the bedroom. You stumble backwards, losing your balance but he catches you and drops you onto the bed. And then he’s on top of you; hungrily tasting you; placing delicious kisses over your hot skin; trailing lower until he reaches your jeans. He unbuttons them and you lift your hips, allowing him to pull them off and leaving you in only your underwear and bra.

For a moment he stares at you, before trailing his hands all over your body; like he wants to feel every inch and every curve. And then he drops between your legs, placing tender kisses along the inside of your thighs; licking; sucking; caressing the skin with his mouth.

Your muscles tense with his every touch, and as his name leaves your lips he grins, dipping his fingers into your underwear and moving the thin fabric aside. You gasp softly when he glides a finger over your slick wetness and you silently beg for more. He repeats the motion, teasing you, and just when you’re ready to tell him you can’t take much more he hooks his fingers into the top of your underwear and removes them entirely before burying his face between your legs.

You’re propped up on your elbows as you drag a hand through his hair and he kisses you right where you need him. You head rolls back and you moan breathlessly as he flicks his tongue over your aching heat, and when he dips his tongue inside, your hips arch and you feel yourself beginning to fall apart.

You glance down as his tongue is replaced by his fingers; driving deep inside you. His eye’s meet yours momentarily and when he gauges the satisfaction on your face you’re sure he grins. But you close your eyes again as he brings a second finger inside you and the sensation coupled with the vigour of his tongue has you calling out his name and you shatter around him.

“_Fuck, Arthur_.” His name tumbles from your lips and your body shudders as the shock-waves hit you. And Arthur doesn’t stop until you beg him to. “I can’t – I’m… _Fuck_.” A sentence struggles to form. “Arthur that was-” He plants gentle kisses across your stomach, working his way up past your chest and back to your mouth. You can taste yourself when he kisses you again.

Arthur releases you lips, allowing you air. “Was it… I mean-” He looks at you, unsure of the right words.

You nod encouragingly. “Yeah. It was.” Arthur smiles modestly and rolls onto his back. “We don’t have to stop. If you want to keep going…” You roll onto your side and palm the stiffness constricted in his pants. His chest rises sharply.

“I – Really do need to rehearse. I don’t know what I’ll say,” He stretches over to reach for a cigarette and lighter from the bedside table, before pulling a face and speaking comically through gritted teeth, “_don’t wanna look stupid in front of Murray_.” He chuckles to himself and lights the cigarette, tucking a hand behind his head.

But you’re still massaging his erection through his pants and he doesn’t appear to be doing a whole lot of protesting. “Well, there’s still plenty of time for that.” You contend. Arthur smirks as he watches you work loose his belt and zipper, before you completely remove his pants.

Laying back, he stretches out against the bed with one hand still under his head and the other on his cigarette. You throw your leg over him, straddling his hips and sinking down onto him so his breath hitches and you exhale deeply. You feel so good with him inside you, filling you entirely.

You move slowly; rolling your hips and running your hands down his lean frame. Falling gently forward, you kiss his chest and draw your fingers over his ribs before gently biting down. Arthur gasps in response and the muscles in his stomach grow taut beneath you touch.

Leaving the cigarette to hang from the corner of his mouth, Arthur grips your hips, pulling his legs up a little behind you to gain a better angle. He matches your rhythm, guiding you up and down on top of him and thrusting steadily into you.

This time it doesn’t take long before you recognise the tell-tale signs of Arthur’s inevitable release. His thrusts become less consistent and his body tenses. His fingers dig into your hips and his eyes are fixed on yours as he comes; a deeply satisfied groan escaping him.

You slow to a stop, panting for breath; the air thick with a sticky heat. Arthur removes the cigarette from between his lips and hangs his arm over the edge of the bed, closing his eyes for a moment. He jerks slightly when you climb off of him and roll onto your back beside him.

“Okay, now? Let’s do this Murray thing.” You grin, placing your hand on his hot thigh.

“Ha ha ha _ha haa_…” He grins. “Just, give me a minute.”

* * *

He’s nervous. You can tell he’s nervous because he keeps switching positions as he sits on the couch; crossing and uncrossing his legs; smiling – but is he smiling too much? Not enough? Are his jokes funny? He starts over, tries again and makes a different grand entrance. He watches old reruns of Murray Franklin on the TV. He practices lines and jokes and flicks through his notebook.

You wander in and out of the living room, catching moments of his intended act here and there but you don’t want to distract him so for the most part, you leave him to it.

Later that evening you’re intrigued when he decides he’s dying his hair for the occasion. “You’re dying it green?” You question, lounging on the sofa as he paces the apartment in only his underwear.

“It’s part of my act.” He insists.

You think it strange, but opt to go along with it. “Okay, sure.”

“I’m painting my face, too.”

You sit up on the sofa, perched on your elbows as he disappears into the bathroom. “_Why?_” You call after him.

“_I don’t know…_” He pauses. “_I feel more confident. And, I think it’ll be good for my act._” You shrug, settling back down.

When he finally emerges from the bathroom, Arthur conducts a very theatrical spin, showing off his new hair colour. “Wow,” You giggle. “I think it suits you, actually.”

He nods and smiles, “I appreciate that,” then disappears into the bedroom. You decide to follow him, for no other reason other than you’re curious to watch him paint his face. He pulls on a pair of dark blue pants before sitting at the dresser and picking up the paintbrush.

“I’ve never seen you with the makeup on...” You lay across the bed with your chin resting in your hands, wondering exactly how he’ll look. He glances sideways at you and smiles as he begins applying the white paint.

After a minute of watching him, you’re interrupted by a buzzing at the door. Arthur frowns, getting up from the dresser.

He pulls the door open and as you linger in the bedroom you hear “Oh hey guys, come on in.” You step into the hallway to be greeted by one very large, and very small man. They stare at you for an awkward moment, seemingly a little perplexed. “Oh, right,” Arthur chuckles, introducing you to the two men. “I forgot you’ve not met.” They nod at you. “I uh, used to work with these guys. This is Randall, and Gary.”

You smile politely. “Nice to meet you. I’ll uh, leave you guys to catch up, then.” You shrug, slipping on your shoes.

“Oh, you can stay, if you want.” Randall, the larger of the two men, mumbles. “I mean if we knew you had company Arthur… We really didn’t expect you to have,” he shrugs in your direction, “company.”

“It’s okay. I gotta stop off at work, and, grab something to eat.” You don’t mind, and Arthur’s fridge is looking a little bare.

Arthur turns to you. “If you’re sure, I’ll see you tonight. You’ll be there?” Arthur questions, pressing his hand against your cheek and staring right at you.

You nod. “I’ll be at the studio Arthur. Promise.” He leans forward and presses his lips firmly against yours. You close your eyes and return the kiss, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck; fingers tangling through damp, green hair.

The two men are staring at you as you let go of Arthur and turn and leave the apartment. As you disappear down the hallway you hear them question Arthur’s new look.

“Did you err, get a new gig?”

“Nah,”

“You must be going down to that rally at City Hall? I hear it’s gonna be nuts…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... Thoughts?  
I JUST FEEL LIKE EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING SO QUICKLY!
> 
> Also, I see a lot of people enjoying the fluff element of some of these chapters. I'm thinking about doing some fluffy lil Arthur/Reader one shots soon, maybe alongside writing this, anyone be interested in that?


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